The Azkaban Honeymoon Suite
by MorticiaYouSpokeFrench
Summary: Wednesday goes to Azkaban to get herself a pet dementor. While there, she meets the most fascinating Dark Lord... Wednesday Addams/Lord Voldemort.


**This is a story I wrote a while ago, and ended coming back to now. The idea of mixing the Addams Family and Harry Potter universes came to me from the story 'Harveste' by kyaru-chan, a great story that I very much recommend. I had loads of fun writing this, hope you like reading it just as much. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was an ice-cold morning. Heavy dark grey clouds hung like a shroud around the Addams house, coloring the sky a deep mournful grey. Heavy torrents of rain pounded the window of the damp and musty kitchen of the Addams home.

Wednesday listened to the echoing howl of the wind outside. It was an anguished screeching that reminded her of the sounds of someone being tortured. She felt a shiver of delight course through her body.

She didn't move, or make a sound as Grandmamma slapped down a bowl of brown sludge in front of her.

"Yak fudge" Grandmamma grinned at her, displaying rotting teeth "made it specially for your birthday".

"Yak fudge? Your favorite, Wednesday!" exclaimed Morticia, Wednesday's mother "Mama, how thoughtful! What do you say, Wednesday?"

"What took you so long?" answered Wednesday coldly.

Grandmamma nodded her approval "Very good. You can tell she's had a proper upbringing, Morticia."

Wednesday ignored them. She was too busy fixating on little Pubert who was preparing to eat his slug cereal. She had replaced the salamander blood he usually ate it in with a highly effective and painful poison. Pubert would be dead within 30 seconds of ingesting it.

Pubert raised his spoon and brought it to his mouth.

Just one more inch….

"Pubert, darling," exclaimed Morticia, snatching the spoon out of his hand "Why don't you have some of Grandmamma's yak fudge for breakfast this morning instead of your usual cereal?"

The poisoned bowl was whisked away from the table, and poured down the sink.

Wednesday deflated. Damn, foiled again.

But she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that her little brother had incredible luck. Every time her plans to murder him were finally about to come to fruition, some incredibly lucky coincidence would save her brother once again.

Pubert would probably end up living to a ripe old age, and living to see his grandchildren become serial killers and psychopaths.

Still, Wednesday wasn't going to give up just yet. She flicked a poisoned dart in his direction. He bent down to tie his shoe just in time for it to miss.

"So, Wednesday" said Uncle Fester who had just entered the room wiping a bloody knife on his coat "have you thought about what you want for your birthday yet?"

"Oh, Fester, I do love what you've done with that coat!" exclaimed Morticia, examining the bloodstain "It just gives it that perfect touch! How lovely!"

"Thank you, Morticia" answered Fester, smiling pleasantly "Well, Wednesday, what will it be? We got you an iron maiden last year, so we could continue with the torture instrument theme, but your sweet sixteen is a big occasion. I though you might like something extra special."

Wednesday had given quite a bit of thought to what she would like to have for her birthday, and had an answer already prepared for Uncle Fester.

"I want a pet dementor" she replied.

"A dementor?" inquired Morticia "What a positively delightful idea! Oh, just think about how gloomy the house would be with one around. But-" she suddenly remembered "Wednesday darling, aren't they nearly extinct? Where on earth would we find one?"

"They a_re_ almost extinct" answered Wednesday "but there's still one place in which they can be found. The British Ministry of Magic keep them as prison guards for their jail."

"Of course, Azkaban!" exclaimed her father, Gomez, who had up until the moment been busying himself by throwing knives at a target somewhere behind Morticia's head. "We went there for our 10th anniversary Tish, remember? Charming place!"

"Ah, yes" answered Morticia dramatically "how could I ever forget that magical weekend? The dark and dank room, the tortured screams of prisoners slowly losing their minds and drowning in despair, how we made love on the blood-tainted floors, oh Gomez!"

Gomez rushed over and started kissing Morticia's arm. The noises Morticia was making were way too obscene to be made in polite company.

But the Addams family was not polite company. No one spared them a second glance: the sight of Morticia and Gomez engaged in a passionate embrace was even more common than the sight of Uncle Fester standing on the roof howling.

When the make out session had ended, at least for the time being, Morticia turned back to Wednesday and continued with their conversation as if there had been no interruption.

"So, Azkaban. Is that where you were planning to get the dementor from?"

Wednesday nodded.

"What a lovely idea!" exclaimed Morticia "We can make a family outing of it! We haven't broken into a prison in _so _long. We can spend the night there, and then in the morning you can pick out a dementor. Oh, it's the perfect birthday outing! We'll leave for England right away!"

"No!" spoke Wednesday forcefully; she had been anticipating this and was determined against letting it happen. "I don't want you coming along! You-" she pointed to Pugsley "You always blow up every single place we go too. I'm sick of looking forward to some killing, only to discover that all the people in the area are already dead because of your damn explosions! I'm not having it! It's my birthday, and I want to get to kill my own people for once! I'm going to Azkaban by myself."

The family all looked at her in shock. This was the greatest display of emotion they had seen from her since the sadistic cackling when she had killed her boyfriend from camp, Joel Glicker. That had been four years ago.

Finally, her mother spoke to her hesitantly "Wednesday, darling, don't worry, we won't let your birthday be ruined. We'll make Pugsley leave his dynamite at home this time, okay?"

Wednesday was determined to go alone though. She was sick and tired of the way her family always ruined vacation for her.

Every family outing was the same. She'd look forward to it for days, fantasize about going on mass killing sprees, dream of hunting massive tarantulas, and of wrestling crocodiles, only to be disappointed.

Every single time, once they got to their destination, Pugsley had already detonated a bomb that cleared the area of all people. All she would find when exploring the tarantula caves were a bunch of curled up legs. Pubert was a very picky eater, and always pulled the legs off the tarantulas before eating them, and he always managed to get to the spiders before Wednesday had a chance. Grandmamma always beat her to wrestling the crocodiles, and by the time it was Wednesday's turn, it was already near death and presented no challenge.

She used to hang out with Uncle Fester during these outings, they would fence together, and discuss torture methods, but ever since he married Aunt Dementia, he spent all his time with her and Wednesday was left with nothing to do. Aunt Dementia was another person on her people-to-kill list.

After the last family trip, where she had had to end up amusing herself by spearing flies and plucking their wings and legs off, she had decided that her next trip would be alone. She fantasized about slashing people's heads off standing in a pool of blood, without having to worry about her family taking away her fun.

And now, her sixteenth birthday, was the perfect opportunity to live her dream- go out on her own for a private adventure.

So, despite the fact that she knew it would disappoint her parents, Wednesday remained firm "I don't want the family coming. I am not a child anymore, and I feel like going on this trip by myself. Am I clear?" she brandished a knife at her mother to emphasize the point.

Morticia and Gomez exchanged looks, and finally Morticia sighed and spoke "All right then, darling. If you're sure. I guess you are finally at that age when girls don't want their parents around anymore. I should have seen it coming, you being a teenager and all. I suppose you don't need us accompanying you on all your murder sprees anymore, you _are_ an adult. I guess I just never thought this day would come so soon!" she stifled a sob.

Wednesday wasn't moved by her mother's distress. "The day has come. Deal with it."

"Quite true!" spoke Fester "I remember when I went on my first killing spree all by myself. And I was fourteen at the time, Morticia; two years younger than Wednesday. It's perfectly natural, even healthy to want to go out on your own. At age sixteen it's high time Wednesday learned to be independent."

Wednesday felt no need to inform her uncle that her first independent murder had been at age ten, it was none of his business.

Morticia smiled at Fester and then at Wednesday. "Yes, you're right of course, Fester dear. The crow needs to leave the nest at some point. So, when are you planning on leaving, Wednesday?"

"Today" she answered. She had been planning this trip for a while, and was all ready to go since yesterday.

"Perfect!" cackled Grandmamma "I'll set up the ritual needed to send you to Britain. You don't want to use a portkey or apparation, they're a much too comfortable way of travel. You only experience mild discomfort with them. I'll cook up the Body Banishing Ritual. That one involves intense and long lasting pain; it's really the only way to travel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some toad genitals, we're out."

* * *

Two hours later found Wednesday standing on an immense island, and in front of the darkest most threatening building she had ever seen (excluding her own house, that is). The wind howled a mournful tune that mingled morbidly with the shrieks of despair and horror emanating from the building.

Wednesday felt excitement course through her veins, as the despondent cries and howling winds setting her blood aflame.

She advanced towards the building, and encountered a huge gate with an immense padlock barring the entrance.

A vat of corrosive acid thrown at the padlock took care of the gate, and Wednesday advanced towards the building her heart pounding and her breathing heavy with excitement. She walked towards an immense metal door that led into the building.

From what her parents told her of their visit to Azkaban, she knew that waiting on the other side of the door there would be a prison guard. He would make her first kill of the evening.

She opened the door slowly, feeling high on the adrenaline coursing through her body, only to find the guard, lying on the floor, already dead. Glancing ahead, she spotted another few dead bodies lying prostrate on the ground.

All those days of planning and looking forward to this trip, only to find someone had already beat her to the shot?

A snarl of pure rage escaped her lips, and an animalistic light entered her eyes. Her fun had been denied to her for the last time. Someone was responsible for the dead bodies that littered the dark hallway before her, and that someone was going to pay!

* * *

Wednesday looked down again at the bodies littering the Azkaban entrance hall, and felt her face contort in a snarl of rage.

The she caught hold of herself, and straightened out her expression. As long as there might be others here, it would not do to drop her mask. She felt her face compose itself into its normal stoic indifference. Clearing her mind of anger, and leaving only logic in its wake, Wednesday decided to explore, and see if she could figure out what had happened. Was the murderer of the prison guards still here? If so, they would live to be sorry for it.

Wednesday left the first floor, there were no prisoners there. It was where the jail guards had their offices and kept supplies, and food.

She walked up a rickety flight of stairs, and tried to look and see if she could spot any clues as to the identity of the murderers. Since she doubted most prisoners, even if they managed to escape would have been capable of killing so many guards, she wondered who it was who had done the deed. A faint clamoring from a few floors above caught her attention, and she hurried up the stairs as silently as a predator.

On the way up, she wondered at the fact that she couldn't feel any dementor presence. She would deal with that later, though. First, to find the person responsible for the current state of things in Azkaban. He would probably have some information on where the dementors were that she could torture out of him before killing him.

As she ascended, the sounds grew louder and louder. Finally, just as the stairs reached an end, she spotted a group of people. They were all standing with each other looking around, Wednesday had the notion they were keeping watch to see if anyone else was coming up.

The most curious thing was that they were all wearing bone-white masks. The effects were rather creepy, Wednesday noted with approval. Probably some kind of criminal organization who were breaking one of their companions out of prison.

Now that she thought of it, Wednesday did have some notion that there was a Dark Lord on the rise in Britain, but she couldn't be sure. She was never really one for politics. She had resolved though, to keep track of any wars that may result in an atomic bomb, as that was something she would dearly love to witness, but other than that her knowledge of what was going on in other parts of the world was obscure at best.

The only reason she even remembered there was a rising Dark Lord in Britain was because some of his exploits that she had read about in the newspaper had vaguely impressed her. She was still above his league, of course, but he was quite efficient at producing terror and devastation wherever he went, and Wednesday could appreciate that.

Well, a Dark Lord he may be, but _nobody_ pissed off Wednesday Addams. The so-called Dark Lord was about to become a dark stain on the floor.

She stepped out into the light of the highest floor in Azkaban, revealing herself to the men in white masks who had instantly leaped to their feet and surrounded her, their wands pointed straight at her.

Wednesday eyed them with disdain, as if she had anything to fear from the likes of _them._

"Who are you?" demanded the biggest and bulkiest one of the lot.

Wednesday remained impassive, he could have been a fly buzzing around his ear for all the regard she gave him. "None of your business" she replied "take me to your master, I want to see him."

The men around her started sniggering "Whatcha' gonna do ta make me sweetheart?" demanded the man, guffawing loudly.

Before he could blink, he was pinned to the wall behind him by his cloak with two knives.

Wednesday walked up to where the man was standing, taking a third knife out of her bag. She gently traced the knife down the man's throat, not quite strongly enough to pierce his skin, the man gulped.

"Listen _sweetheart_" she said "we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way involves you being cut into ribbons so thin, you could pass for spaghetti. Now, which way do you choose?"

"I-I'll do it the easy way" replied the man, cowering.

"Very good" replied Wednesday. She turned to the others "does anyone else have a problem with that?"

The look in her eyes must have been scary, because they all shook their heads quickly.

Wednesday took her knives back and prodded the guard with one in the back, causing him to start walking.

As they walked down the corridor towards where the Dark Lord was, Wednesday took some time to look at her surroundings. They were dark and dank, and the pure anguish and madness staring at her from the faces behind the thick black bars was overwhelming.

Her parents had been right, this place was absolutely gorgeous, even better than she had imagined it.

Finally, they reached the end of the corridor. Four figures were standing there in a huddle. One of them was obviously the prisoners this group had come to rescue. She was wearing black and white striped robes, and looking sickly and gaunt. There was a glint of madness in her eyes, a sure sign of extended exposure to dementors. She was supported by two mask-wearing figures.

The fourth figure was tall, thin and wearing a black robe. He had his back turned to Wednesday, and was surveying the prisoner in the middle. Wednesday assumed that this was the dark lord.

She prodded the guard in the back with her knife, and he yelped as it lightly pierced his skin. All seven figures turned around at the noise, and stared at them.

Wednesday let her eyes roam over the figures of the two men and the woman, before letting them rest on the dark lord.

She felt her heartbeat start to race as a shock of arousal shot through her.

The man's face was white. In fact, it was so white it looked like it belonged on a dead body. His eyes were red. A dark, blood-colored red. His head was completely bald, and the rest of his face had no hair either- no eyebrows or stubble. His features were somewhat distorted, as if his face had been made of wax that had melted, a sure sign that he had used dark forbidden magic on his body.

All in all, the man was absolutely gruesome. Wednesday felt herself shiver with desire.

Quickly, she reconsidered her decision to kill him. Maybe he had something to offer her as compensation for ruining her vacation.

The man, who had been surveying the knife she was pressing against his follower, turned to look at her, his non –existent eyebrow quirked questioningly.

"Am I to understand that you're the one responsible for this?" she questioned coldly.

He smirked "This?"

"Don't play coy with me" she said calmly, but with an unmistakable touch of danger in her voice "it's your fault all the guards at the entrance are dead and there are no dementors to be found. I've been looking forward to this vacation for weeks, and now you've gone and ruined it. So, you've better make it up to me and quick before I show you exactly what happens to someone who's angered an Addams."

"Vacation?" he asked, looking incredulous.

Wednesday contemplated killing him on the place, but decided to exercise some restraint. Instead, she endeavored to explain.

"I was planning a vacation here in Azkaban" she said coldly "I was going to torture the prison guards till they were crazier than the prisoners they were guarding, and then kill them slowly one at a time. After that, I was going to find a dementor, to take home with me as a slave. The dementors are all gone, and the guards are dead. There's no fun in torturing the prisoners into insanity, because they've already all lost their minds. You've ruined my vacation.

"Now, you either find a way to make it up to me, or you get fed to my brother Pubert for lunch. Which will it be?"

"Silence, you mudblood!" shrieked the insane woman in the jail robes "How dare you speak to the Dark Master like that? You should be down on your knees kissing his robes, slave!"

The dark lord took out his wand and gave it a little flick in her direction. The woman gave a pained shriek and fell silent.

"Well, Ms. Addams" spoke the dark lord, looking at her calculatingly "it appears that I owe you an apology. I was unaware that I was disrupting anyone's plans."

His followers gaped at him. The mad woman started sputtering incredulously. The Dark Lord ignored them.

"As for the issue of making it up to you, you will find that the dementors are present on the island, they are merely waiting outside the building at my _insistence, _since they proved that they couldn't control their instincts."

"And the guards?" asked Wednesday.

"Well, I seem to recall that one managed to send a patronus calling for backup before we killed him. Our plan was to leave before the backup came, and you are welcome to take them on for yourself if you so desire." He replied gallantly.

"That would be acceptable" answered Wednesday, even though she had secretly been hoping he would offer his sexual services as compensation. Still, her vacation was back on track, so she was more or less content.

She was about to head down to the bottom floor again to await the arrival of the backup when she heard shouts and footsteps from many floors below. It looked like her intended victims were going to come to her.

The Dark Lord snapped to attention "Lucius! Rabastan! Take Bellatrix and the others and leave this place. I do not want to risk the aurors catching you, and with your incompetence that is a distinct possibility. I want you out of here!"

"My Lord?" questioned the man with brown hair, not needing to voice the question.

"I will stay here with… Ms. Addams to ensure that everything is to her satisfaction."

When his servants stayed in place, staring at him uncomprehendingly, he added "Scram!" and flicked his wand threateningly. They all scampered.

A few quiet pops later, and Wednesday was alone with the British Dark Lord.

They stared at each other calculatingly, each trying to assess the other. Many floors below them, footsteps thundered up drawing ever closer. They were still a long ways off, however, and it would be about five minutes until Wednesday and the Dark  
Lord would be interrupted.

The Dark Lord spoke first "I've never before met someone other than myself who had been able to scare my Death Eaters into complete submission, Ms. Addams."

Death Eater, what a gruesome name, mused Wednesday. She should suggest it to Cousin Cruella who was pregnant at the moment and searching for a baby name.

Speaking of names…. "My name is Wednesday, don't call me Ms. Addams."

"Wednesday, then." Said the snakelike man "I am Lord Voldemort."

Wednesday stared at him coldly, hoping to make him uncomfortable with her silence.

He seemed unfazed, though, and just leaned against the wall, relaxing, until the sounds of the backup team drew nearer.

Wednesday's plan had been to incapacitate the guards, lock them in a cell while she went to check out the dementor selection, and then return to the guards later. After all, the anticipation and terror of what was to come was just as much torture as the actual pain.

The incapacitatation part of the plan was fun. The first auror to reach Wednesday and Voldemort was greeted by two sharp needles stabbed into his eyes before he could blink, he bowled over, howling. The second one had his limbs chopped off with an ax…Wednesday soon lost herself in a haze of blood-lust and malicious glee.

What felt like only minutes later, though it must have been longer, Wednesday came to herself, panting.

Blood soaked the floor around her, as the men she had fought lay either groaning or still on the stone floor. With a quick wave of her wand ( precisely 13 inches, made of human bone, with a scorpion sting core) the mangled and bloodied aurors were banished into a cell and locked in. Wednesday would return to deal with them later.

She turned around only to spot Voldemort. She had forgotten about him in the rush of violence she had just experienced.

The gruesome-looking man was staring at her intently, and…. Was that lust in his eyes?

A feral growl escaped his lips. Oh, yes, definitely lust.

A fraction of a second later, and they had both grabbed each other, their mouths meeting as Wednesday clawed at Voldemort's back. He was plundering her mouth frantically, and she felt her knees go weak as she grinded against him trying to get some friction.

A muffled grunt escaped Voldemort's lips, and he seized Wednesday and lifted her up, pushing her back against the prison wall as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Not breaking away from the kiss, Voldemort proceeded to carry her to the open and empty cell he had just rescued his follower from, and Wednesday found herself deposited on the torn, bloodstained sheets.

The next few hours were a blur of lust and exquisite pleasure for Wednesday.

* * *

A couple of hours later, she was lying on the hard and dirty mattress, which reminded her slightly of her bed at home, only it didn't have nails in it, and contemplating the sleeping figure of the Dark Lord.

Up until now, she had killed every lover she had had (not that there were many, just two, but still). It was like a double game for her: part one, gain the pleasure from having sex. Part two, gain the pleasure of killing your partner in the most creative and untraceable way you can come up with.

This time, however, something was different. The fun of having sex with Voldemort and just spending time in his intoxicatingly evil presence seemed to outweigh the pleasure she would gain from killing him. For the first time in her life, she didn't want to kill someone; she wanted to spend more time in with them.

There was another difference between Voldemort and her previous lovers. They were idiotic teenaged boys, they were horny and would have sex with any pretty girl who gave them the opportunity. They had been attracted to her dark beauty, enticed by the aura of danger that surrounded her, but Wednesday had no doubt that if they had viewed her in one of her more sadistic and cruel moments they would have run for the hills, screaming.

Voldemort, on the other hand, was _like_ her. What had brought on the incredible hours she had just experienced was him viewing her hurting and maiming all those people. He had liked it like she did_._

Maybe that was why the loss of his company didn't seem worth the pleasure she would gain from killing him.

In any case, she had made the decision not to.

She got up from the lumpy mattress, slipped on her black dress, and headed out of the cell. She had been so absorbed in the lovemaking between her and the Dark Lord that she had failed to sense the return of the dementors. They all seemed to be avoiding their cell anyways, too many pleasant emotions.

Contrary to what other people thought, dementors didn't feed on other people's happy emotions.

Because people felt as though they would never be happy again in the presence of dementors, they assumed that the dementors had consumed all of their happy memories.

The fact was, though, that the dementor didn't feed on memories, if they did then a person who had encountered a dementor would not be able to remember a single positive thing that had ever happened in their life, they would be left with his worst memories in perpetuity, and not only when in the dementor's presence. (Interesting thought. She wondered if she could get Cousin Cringe, a mad scientist, to genetically engineer a dementor to do just that).

What dementors fed on was emotions, because emotions didn't have a limit on them like memories did, the dementor could feed on the prisoners of Azkaban forever without getting hungry.

In order to bring the most negative emotions to the surface, the dementor's breath had in it a hallucinogenic gas that caused people to experience their worst memories.

Wednesday knew all this because she had been fascinated by dementors when she was eleven years old, and studied everything about them. The dementor phase came right after the Bermuda Triangle phase and before the torture methods phase.

She walked down the aisle, past the groaning and shrieking prisoners beating their fists against the walls of their cells. Finally, she neared a dementor.

Immediately, she felt herself immersed in her most horrible memories. Memories of unbearable pain, endless agony, and drowning desperation filled her mind.

Wednesday closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply, relishing the awfulness of the memories.

She opened her eyes again when the memories started to fade, and saw the dementor peering at her with an air of puzzlement. Of course, it was hard to tell exactly what a dementor was feeling, since they had no face, but puzzlement was what its' body language seemed to convey.

It probably wasn't used to getting positive emotions of enjoyment mixed with the negative ones. It stared at her for a couple more seconds (or at least Wednesday thought it did) and then started backing away from her.

Wednesday sighed, she would need to find a more aggressive dementor- this one was obviously a wimp.

She continued the direction opposite to the one the dementor had taken, surveying the bloodstained walls and the gaunt despairing faces staring at her from behind bars. This really was a very romantic setting. Wednesday had never thought of herself as a romantic, and was a bit disgusted with herself for it, but she couldn't help but be a little pleased with the lovely atmosphere.

The next dementor she came across was much more straightforward that the previous one. In fact, it floated right up to her and attempted to kiss her straight of the mouth without so much as a 'how do you do'. Wednesday decided to indulge it this time, but if she ended up taking this dementor home, she would have to train it not to treat guests that way unless instructed.

It was a well known fact that murder is what causes a soul to split, and countless murders had ensured that Wednesday's soul was shredded into very tiny pieces.

Wednesday figured it couldn't hurt to feed just a tiny piece of soul to the dementor, so when she felt the dementor's mouth on hers, and felt the pull on her soul, trying to suck it out, she released a tiny sliver of her soul, and allowed it to get sucked out of her mouth, and into the dementor's open maw.

The dementor pulled away looking satisfied, but this only lasted a fraction of a second.

Suddenly, the dementor choked, seizing its' throat and gasping in a kind of wheezy way. A few seconds later, it fell back on to the floor, dead.

Hmm… What a shame. She had developed a certain fondness for that dementor. The Addamses liked creatures that took what they want with no regard for human life, he would have fit right in.

Oh well, as Grandmamma always said, you don't cry over spilled blood.

She felt the sudden weight of two hands, as long white fingers wrapped around her shoulders.

"Did that dementor just _die_ from consuming your soul?" an amused voice laughed in her ear.

She spun around and straight into the embrace of the emaciated and grotesque (and oh-so-sexy) figure of the dark lord.

"It would appear so. Well, we may as well make use of the body. How does dementor entrails for dinner sound? I'm not as great a cook as Grandmamma, but I can hold my own in the kitchen."

Voldemort looked intrigued.

* * *

They walked back towards their cell hand in hand, in silence. Wednesday dug her nails into Voldemort's hand until in started to bleed, and then stared at the blood quietly in satisfaction.

It was he who broke the silence. "Wednesday, I was thinking. I'm in the process of conquering England and enslaving all of it's subjects, and it seems like the kind of thing you'd find fun. I'd like for you to join me. Will you?"

Wednesday contemplated him in silence for a couple of moments before speaking.

"Well," she said slowly "I did have quite a lot of fun having sex with you, and making the people of England cower before us _is_ quite appealing now that you bring it up.

"So…. Yes. I suppose I'll join you, at least for a while." She concluded, cursing herself for sounding so soppy.

Voldemort didn't seem to find her proclamation as disgustingly lovey-dovey as she did, though. He smiled down at her wickedly in satisfaction, before tackling her to the ground and kissing her senseless.

As Wednesday reciprocated enthusiastically, it occurred to her that she would probably never get her solitary vacation in the end. Maybe that wasn't so bad, though. Maybe cousins Flora and Fauna were right: two heads really _were_ better than one.

FIN

* * *

**Hoped you liked! Reviews are appreciated!**


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